


Maybe We Should Try Again

by maefables



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, FAHC Au, M/M, Secret Santa, Temporary Kidnapping, a little mutual pining, itty bitty sprinkle of angst, top it off with fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 01:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16965276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maefables/pseuds/maefables
Summary: Call history. Unknown number.Text messages. Same number, a picture of Gavin.He snaps the phone in his palm.Michael trudges back to the van, hands deep in his pockets, worry flaring to life in his chest.Gavin frowns, slipping his phone back into his pocket, probably after updating Geoff on their situation. “Was it for me?”





	Maybe We Should Try Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [futureboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/futureboy/gifts).



> For the RT Writing Community Secret Santa! Happy holidays!  
> I had a ton of fun writing this, hope we all do it again! ♥

It's been a week since Michael last saw Gavin.  
A week of desperately telling himself that he's not worried out of his goddamn mind.  
A week of pacing around the penthouse, the parking garage, the facility, the hospital lobby. 

Now, he stands in front of the door to Gavin’s hospital room, replaying the same mess of a scene in his mind over and over and over again. It’s not really his fault, but he blames himself anyway.

\---

 

 _A rival gang-- they’d sent someone off to attack at Gavin. Originally, Geoff had called it out. He asked who sent a mugger, leaning over the back of the driver’s seat of their surveillance van, giving Jack and Michael a smug grin. His expression changed to confused shock when both of them denied having called someone._  

 _It didn’t take them long to realize that the masked figure running up behind their Golden Boy was a threat. Jack reached towards her hip, pulling her handgun out of a holster on her belt._   
_In an instant, a crack sounded through the air, and both Gavin and the stranger laid on the floor._  

 _Michael was the first one out of the van. The first one to hold Gavin’s bloodied body, hands pressing hard against the knife wound to stop the flow. Jack followed soon after, first aid kit in her hands. Geoff was busy kicking at the stranger’s limp form, ripping off the mask to see who it was. Michael was cursing against Gavin’s chest while Jack bandaged him up, murmuring about how much of an idiot he was for not checking behind him._  

\---

 

His fist almost meets the hospital wall, barely held back by a few centimeters. Michael lets out a heavy breath, finally pushing past the worried anxiety that plagues him, busting into the door of Gavin’s room. The sight waiting him is Gavin, propped up in his bed, frowning at the television mounted on the wall above him. He has the remote in pieces in front of him-- probably trying to rebuild it so it works better. _Weirdo_ , Michael thinks to himself, knuckles knocking loudly against the already-open door.

Gavin jumps a bit at the sudden noise, a screw clattering to the floor beside the hospital bed.  
Michael rolls his eyes as he bends down to pick it up. He puts it on the tray beside the bed, taking a seat in an empty chair against the wall.

“Micoo?” Gavin asks with a gentle smile, and Michael swears the nickname is only said to make him frustrated. All it manages to do is make him shake his head.

“Hey, Gav. You’re still alive?” He tries to ask with a hint of sarcasm, but he feels it comes off as worried. Gavin frowns, eyes shifting to stare at his lap.

“Yeah… Hey, Michael, why didn’t you visit before? I’m already almost all fixed up now-!” His voice slips into a whine, and Michael almost shrinks back in the chair.

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Michael realizes he can’t answer that. He can’t tell Gavin how worried he was-- how worried he _is_. He can’t bring himself to spill emotions right now, not when he’s sitting in a chair, in a hospital room, staring at his best friend, who he almost lost.  
Gavin deserves a better confession than that. Another time. 

He shakes his head when Gavin looks up for an answer.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin mumbles, and Michael’s heart hammers against his ribcage. It’s almost painful.

He stands, then, quickly walking out of the room. Gavin calls after him, and he faintly hears the rest of the remote’s pieces scatter across the ground as he walks down the hall.

\----------

 

It’s almost a month later, three weeks since Gavin was officially released from the hospital. Michael's stomach is still doing annoying little gymnastics tricks every time they're around each other.

Geoff takes his awkwardness as an apparent open door to make his life even worse. Every single heist they go on, he's pairing with Gavin, even if it doesn't fit their usual schematic for doing these things.

Right now, he's sitting in the nearly freezing cold, listening to Gavin fill the cold air with humming along to the quiet radio. Infuriating, honestly. Michael forcefully pushes frosty air through his lips, settling down into his annoyance. They were only on surveillance today, the worst possible job for someone who could be the personification of a stick of dynamite if he tried hard enough.

But, it was for Gavin’s sake.

The whole crew was still unconsciously trying to keep him safe. Michael figures he knows that, so he doesn't complain in Gavin's place whenever he gets put on the safe route. Michael's only there to keep an eye out.

Which is why, as a man in a mask approaches their van, he's suddenly holding a sticky bomb. Gavin asks something about that being too intense, Michael ignores him entirely. He chucks the remote explosive, landing it in the center of the would-be mugger’s chest.

“Oops,” Michael winces, knowing this guy won't walk away alive. He clicks the detonator, and within seconds, the mugger doesn't have an upper half. Overkill, for sure, but who cares? It was therapeutic for him, and kept Gavin safe.

Telling Gavin to wait in the van, he hops out of the passenger's seat, heading towards the still-smoldering body. Fishing around for a bit, he pulls up a cracked and broken cell phone from about 20 feet away from the body in the bushes.

Call history. Unknown number.  
Text messages. Same number, a picture of Gavin. 

He snaps the phone in his palm.

Michael trudges back to the van, hands deep in his pockets, worry flaring to life in his chest.

Gavin frowns, slipping his phone back into his pocket, probably after updating Geoff on their situation. “Was it for me?”

Michael nods, he doesn't want to talk right now with the bile threatening to crawl up his throat.

“Michael?” He turns his attention to Gavin beside him. “You're acting weird. You're jumpy, in the bad way. It's like you're being… protective. Are you worried about me?”

Michael almost chokes on air. He’s silent for a moment, thinking over what he needs to say. “I have to make sure you don't pull something stupid and get yourself killed,” is what he settles with.

Gavin doesn't reply, just goes quiet, nestling himself into the driver's seat, staring out the window with a glaze over his eyes. Michael guesses he fucked that up, somehow, and now he's stuck.

Oh well.

\----------

 

It's been months of awkwardness, months of Michael pulling dangerous stunts he brushes off easily, months of a deep, ingrained fear chilling Gavin's bones. He knew Michael would get himself hurt. Another attacker came for Gavin, they always did, and Michael always got to them first.

Now, Gavin is standing outside of a hospital room, carefully holding a bouquet in his arms. Ryan had given it to him, saying Michael would probably appreciate _something_ telling him to get well. Gavin had chosen not to question any of it, aside from asking which flowers were included. Ryan said something along the lines of red roses and pink carnations, then mumbled something or another about acacia, and another flower that Gavin didn’t think he could pronounce. He was also instructed that he wasn’t allowed to search any of them until _after_ he left the hospital.

Curious as he may be, Gavin figures that knowing the meanings will be something that he doesn’t want to give to Michael like this.

He’s no idiot, the rose in the center gives enough away for him to know Ryan’s trying to egg him on. He’s an idiot, thinking Gavin will give it away at a time like this. Michael’s in no condition to be accepting of his feelings, though he likely wouldn’t even if he wasn’t in the hospital.

At the very least, Gavin is comforted by the fact he knows Michael isn’t in any major pain. Just a check up. Some smoke inhalation. Got too close to a burning building, trying to go out in a blaze of glory.

 _Idiot_ , Gavin shakes his head, _a complete idiot._

Huffing out a breath of anxious air, he steps into the room.

“About goddamn time, I’ve been hitting this fucking button for-- _oh,_ ” Michael cuts himself off mid-sentence, staring silently at Gavin. He fumbles for a couple seconds, dropping the remote to call the nurse.

Gavin stares for a couple minutes, and then he starts laughing. “I see you’re feeling better! I thought I’d come wish you well getting better, but it looks like you don’t need it.”

MIchael’s expression shifts from flustered surprise to mock anger. His eyebrows furrow, but his lips twitch up in a smile that makes Gavin’s stomach knot up. It’s unfair, really, how a little smile that Gavin knows is reserved for when Michael pretends to be upset with him can make his heart mess up its rhythm. But he can’t focus on it.

“Flowers, _really_?” Michael questions, jabbing a finger in the direction of the bouquet in Gavin’s hands, lips curling into a smirk, “Bet Ryan put it together, didn’t he?”

“No!” Gavin shoots back instinctively, to which Michael snorts. He stares down at the arrangement of flowers, turning it around in his hands until the roses were effectively out of Michael’s sight completely. “Well… he _made_ it, but I picked out the flowers… Loaned me his big book of all of them, it’s telling you to get well soon.”

Michael laughs again, a genuine laugh, and Gavin can feel his skin heat up around his face. Michael’s laughing at him, the _prick_!

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Thanks, Gavvy. I _totally_ appreciate your dumb get well flowers. Just the thing _Mogar_ needs, being stuck in a hospital bed with flowers around me.” Michael teases while Gavin plops the bouquet into an empty vase that’s decorating the room.

“They’re for protection! Maybe I hid some cameras in the leaves, a microphone in the buds! Here to watch over you and be weird until you’re better. You spent so long doing it to me, I might as well do it to you,” Gavin rolls his eyes, sticking his tongue out.

Michael sputters, shooting up into a sitting position. “I did **not**! I don’t need to protect an idiot like you, you’re fine! I just have to keep you _alive_!”

“Why?”

“Because the crew needs you. You’re important to them.” Michael says instantly, but his voice seems a bit far away.

“Am I important to _you_?” Gavin asks, almost silently. He’s not even sure Michael hears him.

Michael doesn’t reply, just stares down at his bed. Gavin can feel his heart shrivel up and die in his chest, so he turns on his heels and stomps out of the hospital room. The door slams when he leaves, leaving Michael alone.

Gavin doesn’t sleep that night, kept up by angry, heartbroken regrets. 

\----------

 

Two more weeks after Michael’s release from the hospital, he goes missing.

He wakes up to complete darkness, a cloth knotted tightly around his head. A familiar laugh echoes behind him, but he can’t place who it belongs to. He winces away from cold metal against his cheek, knowing instantly the feeling of a blade.

When the person holding him hostage finally speaks, Michael knows it instantly.

The Fakes have branches. They have allies. Uneasy friends.  
Fake _Haus_ being one of them.

“You sure we can’t just rough him up?” He hears James ask, voice light and full of amusement.

Bruce replies in a snicker, “If _you_ were the one doing it, you’d leave too many _marks._ ”

Michael has a feeling he doesn’t want to know what those marks are. Likely, he’s being kept for ransom. Or someone did something stupid. Ryan or Geoff, probably, stepped on some toes, and Michael got roped into it.

He spits in the direction of the voices, which is only met by more laughter. Another voice, Adam, tells them to back off. “We’ll just leave him here until we hear something.”

MIchael grits his teeth, a guttural noise like a growl pouring out of his chest. “Fucking _COWARDS_ -” he’s cut off by a strike to the chin, knocking the air out of his lungs. Okay, so they weren’t playing around entirely, good to know. There was some hint of a serious want to get what they’re after. This wouldn’t be another mess of misunderstandings.

He had some right to the fear making his chest tight.

There’s another noise, one he knows way too well, a gun cocking. And then a barrel pressed against his leg. Michael stiffens, waiting for the threat. For the pain.

A loud noise erupts behind them, alongside a laugh that Michael practically melts in relief upon hearing. _Jack_ , thank God, if Jack’s here, that means everyone else is too. While the guys around him run off, Michael sits patiently, waiting for his savior.

He’s expecting Ryan. Ryan’s usually the fearless one who busts into the room to save the hostages.

What he doesn’t expect is the sudden painful tugging at the back of his head, along with the string of imaginary curses that pour out of Gavin’s lips when Michael shouts in pain. Gavin? _Really? Whose idea was it to send this guy?_

When Gavin finally figures out the knot, and Michael can see, he lands a mock punch against Gavin’s side, getting a nice little squeak in reply. “Idiot, that _hurt_!”

“I’m _sorry!_  I was trying to get you out as soon as possible!” Gavin defends himself, pulling Michael out of his seat, dragging him out of the room. They move quickly, and before he knows it, Michael is in the back of Jack’s van, sitting next to Gavin, waiting for the rest of the crew to get their asses back outside.

They’re stuck in an uncomfortable silence a while, before Gavin finally speaks up.

“I was important this time, right?” He asks, voice small and far away.

“What?”

“To you. I was important, right? You needed me there? I helped?”

Michael turns, staring at Gavin in surprise. He’s completely silent for a few minutes, until Gavin pulls his knees to his chest, face contorting into a pained expression. _Almost like a kicked animal_ , Michael thinks.

“Yeah, you were. You _are_.” He finally says, before deciding to go silent.

Somewhere along the ride home, Michael scoots closer to Gavin. It’s just him, Gavin, and Jack in the front driving. The partition is up, meaning they’re alone. It’s finally his time.

Gavin freezes when Michael puts a hand on his shoulder, staying frozen the entire time he leans up and presses his lips against Gavin’s. Gavin doesn’t respond at all, at first. Then, his hands fly up, grasping onto Michael’s cheeks, a sudden life in his eyes when he smashes his lips back against Michael’s.

Michael sputters, pulling himself back, still in Gavin’s hands. “Holy _shit_ , Gavin! You’re not supposed to try and _eat my face_!”

“Miiiiiiichael,” it comes out a whine, and Michael can’t help but lean back in for another kiss, short and soft.

The smile plastered all over Gavin’s face when they pull apart is so warm and bright that Michael almost feels like he’s gonna go blind. Like the sun itself, personified. That’s what Gavin is. Sunshine, and Michael can’t help the way his heart beats in tune with it.

His loving moment is broken when Gavin frowns. “Did one of them hit you?”

“What-? Oh. _Oh_. Yeah...I got a little mouthy.” Michael admits, a smile sneaking onto his face. Gavin only pouts.

“I should’ve gotten there to protect you sooner!”

“Oh my God. Gavin, _shut up_.”


End file.
